Narcolepsy Sidle
by GreenAlpaca
Summary: 3 months after Sara couldn't close Eddie Willows' case, Catherine is ready to forgive and forget but Sara's guilt and her unhealthy habits pique Catherine's interest. FEMSLASH: if love between consenting adults offends you, please don't read my fic.
1. Chapter 1

Warning: Femslash, if the idea of a consenting sexual relationship between two adult women offends you, please do not read my fic. There will be coarse language, violent/dark themes, and other adult topics.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, the characters, or the concept. This is a work of fiction based upon the work of others, no money is being made, this is intended for the enjoyment of other like-minded fans, nothing more. "Narcolepsy Slide" belongs to 3rd Eye Blind.

I love CSI but I don't get the opportunity to watch it regularly, therefore, I reserve the right to bend cannon to my will. This fic is set just after "Lady Heather's Box" – 2003, and well before the events of "Nesting Dolls" – 2005.

Narcolepsy Sidle

_And I can feel this narcolepsy slide into another nightmare…_

C.S.I. Warrick Brown was bent over a layout table. Laid across the surface were photos and plaster casts of shoe prints.

"Have you seen Sara?"

Warrick looked into the eyes of an irate Catherine Willows. "Nope." He glanced at his watch. "She and Nick worked that DB in Henderson last night, then Gris sent her out to you."

"Yeah, we had a suspicious circs, elderly woman, looks like a natural death, but I need Sara's analysis of the clothing to close this one."

"Maybe she went home, Cath, she'd be well into a triple if she stayed."

Catherine raised a slim eyebrow.

"Good point." Warrick acquiesced. Sara's habit of working multiple shifts was hardly remarkable after five years.

Catherine stalked down the hall. After scouring the lab for Sara she'd turned to Greg, who, after delaying her with his usual posturing, had pointed Catherine to the shop. Catherine's temper flared as she pushed the heavy door open and faced an empty room. On the verge of leaving in a huff, a pair of legs sticking out from under a car caught her eye.

"Sara, I need your report on Mrs. Pendergast's clothing." Catherine's brow furrowed when she received no response. "Sara!" she said sharply.

Making a small noise of frustration, Catherine knelt and gave one of Sara's leg a rough shake. "C'mon Sidle, where's my report?"

Sara jerked violently and Catherine heard the loud, metalic thump of Sara's head on the underside of the car followed by muffled groans and cursing. "Fffffuck."

Catherine winced, that had to have hurt. "Sara?" she questioned softly. Sara rolled the creeper out from under the car, a trickle of blood coursing down her forehead.

"God Sara, I'm sorry…" Catherine said, reaching for the injured brunette. The injured woman flinched from her touch. Catherine's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Sara." She said firmly. Her professional mask nearly back in place, Sara met Catherine's gaze steadily.

"I'm alright Catherine." Sara sighed wearily. "What did you need?"

"Our suspicious circs, Mrs. Pendergast." Noting Sara's blank expression, Catherine continued. "I need your report to close."

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Sara shook her head as if to clear it, brown locks freed from the loose pony tail and framed her face. "I'll uh, I'll go get it." She rose quickly, long legs carrying her from the room before Catherine could utter another word.

Catherine sighed and rose to follow the brunette. When Sara closed the Eddie Willows case, Catherine had been furious with her. Now, nearly three months later, Catherine's rancor had dissipated, but Sara still cut her a ridiculously wide swath. Already an infrequent guest at team breakfasts and post-shift drinks, Sara now rarely socialized with her coworkers and never when Catherine was included.

Sara's evasiveness pervaded even in the lab. It was difficult to avoid anyone in the glass-walled facility, but Sara was managing the task fairly well, Catherine rarely saw her outside of their daily meeting with Gil and the occasional case. Thinking of Gil made Catherine smile, he fumbled through most office politics, but he'd done a good job of keeping her and Sara apart after Eddie's case.

Lost in thought, Catherine reached her office and nearly walked into Sara, who was making her exit. Sara started, side stepped Catherine, and strode back toward the shop.

"Sar-" Catherine began.

"Report's on your desk." She called behind her.

Catherine sighed and walked into her office.

* * *

The hot Nevada sun finally slipped below the hills as a black SUV rolled into the car park. Catherine rolled her shoulders and twisted her neck from side to side in an attempt to relieve the tension that had settled there. Heaving a tired sigh, she stepped from the Tahoe, gathered the evidence from the scene she'd worked that day, and walked into the lab.

After logging her evidence, Catherine decided to grab a much needed cup of coffee from the break room. Working on auto pilot, Catherine put on a fresh pot. When the tired appliance gurgled to life, she turned and blinked in surprise – Sara lay curled up on the small break room couch, fast asleep.

Catherine took the rare opportunity to study brunette's relaxed features. The wound she'd sustained under the car a few days before peeked out from the soft brown hair. Catherine felt a smile tug her lips as she noted small bit of drool on the arm of couch under Sara's face.

Making her way across the room, Catherine knelt next to Sara. From her new perspective she noted the sickly pallor and the darkness under Sara's eyes; even in sleep, the woman looked exhausted. Catherine brushed the hair back from Sara's face, surprised when she didn't stir. Placing a hand on her arm, Catherine gave her a gentle shake. Giving a throaty groan, Sara rolled to her back, stretched, but did not wake.

Catherine bit her lip to forestall her amusement. "Sara." She intoned gently. Mindful of the last time she'd surprised the other woman, Catherine shifted back on her heels and tried again more firmly. "Sara."

That drew a response. Sara jerked awake, breath heaving, wild eyes darting around the room until they came to rest on Catherine, who knelt an arm's length away. "Hey, relax, it's just me, you're okay." Sara blinked owlishly and seemed to relax a little.

"I fell asleep." She stated unnecessarily.

"Yeah, you did and judging by the drooling coma you could do with a little more rest."

Sara's hand flew her to her mouth as a self-conscious blush crept up her neck. "I don't even remember laying down." She muttered to herself. Sara swung her long legs to the floor and tried to smooth her hair back into a presentable coiffure.

Catherine's brow furrowed. "Sara, you need more sleep." She said disapprovingly. Sara's gaze snapped to Catherine, eyes flashing with ire.

"I'm not – " she began indignantly as Warrick and Nick entered the break room. "Hello ladies." Warrick intoned good-naturedly.

"Hey Warr." Catherine stood, favoring them with a smile.

"Sara, I think our vic the other day was part of a serial." Nick handed Sara a file and moved to her side on the couch.

Shooting Catherine a wary look, Sara pushed her embarrassment aside and studied the file.

* * *

Catherine smiled, waved, and made other small gestures of welcome as she walked into the lab. Noting the empty break room, she glanced at her watch and realized she was uncharacteristically early, the team wouldn't assemble for another twenty minutes. Wrinkling her nose at the thought of the paperwork on her desk, Catherine opted for an aimless walk around the lab.

Her feet carried her to the end of the hall, to "Sara's Lab," and Catherine ruefully acknowledged that her walk might not have been without purpose. Glass walls were indeed a boon when checking up on someone; from the hall, Catherine could see Sara was studying blood spatter.

Dozens of photographs were backlit by the rear wall of the lab, each showed a minute blood spatter. Sara stood before the wall of evidence, hips canted, her left hand tucked in the back pocket of her jeans. Her right foot, encased in a clunky boot as per usual, tapped with a beat Catherine could not hear from the hallway.

Sara's body abruptly stilled, her head tipped slowly to one side. Catherine watched as Sara sprang back to life, jerking one picture from the light board to compare it with another. Sara wheeled back to the layout table, pictures in hand, and began furiously taking notes, her face shining with victory.

Catherine smiled, loathe to interrupt the brunette during a breakthrough, she wandered back toward the break room.

**A/N** A strange place to stop, I know, but I'm tapped out at the moment. There'll be another chapter next time I'm inspired.

Reviews are welcome, of course, but don't feel obligated. Now scamper off and read something else, fanfic is good for you!


	2. Chapter 2

Same ole' warning/disclaimer stuff as the last round. Thanks again for all the kind reviews, they really pumped me up and encouraged me to write another chapter.

* * *

"Alright guys, we've a mess on our hands." Grissom announced as he stepped into the break room. "There was an explosion on the monorail between Bally's and the Flamingo. Two cars derailed, 27 injuries, 12 fatalities. Now Search and Rescue has tentatively cleared the area…"

Ecklie burst into the break room, "Look alive people, I've got the F.B.I and Homeland Security breathing down my neck! This investigation gets top priority, all your other cases are suspended until we sort this thing out."

In an entrance much less dramatic than either Grissom's or Ecklie's, Sara joined the meeting and made a beeline for Nick. "I think I just broke our case! You were right about it being a serial, check out this castoff, I've never seen…"

"Nice of you to join us Sidle," Ecklie cut in, "If you got to work on time maybe you'd know we have a crisis on our hands." Ecklie turned back to the group, effectively dismissing her.

"Now the federals are going to send their own investigators, but until they get here, we'll be taking point. That means all of the evidence comes here and it'll stay here if I have anything to say about it. I don't have to tell you people how important this is for the lab. If we process the evidence that catches the terrorists…"

"Terrorists?" Sara's brow furrowed, "What happened?"

"The monorail exploded!" Greg began, only to have Ecklie override him.

"Those who were _on time_ can fill you in on the way to the scene. Sanders, you're in the lab, the rest of you, get out there start collecting evidence. No leaks to the press," He paused to look at Sara, "no loose cannon crap. Get me something to show Homeland Security and get it fast."

Ecklie marched out of the room, cell phone to his ear as he hit the door, "Yes sir, I've already deployed my team…." His voice faded as the door closed behind him.

With a sigh, Grissom began, "Okay, as I was saying, Search and Rescue is giving us the green light, but we've got two cars on the ground and one partially off the track. It's not clear where the explosion originated and for all we know, there could be more explosives. Safety is our highest priority."

Warrick snorted. "I thought beating the Feds to the punch was our highest priority."

Grissom shot him a wry grin. "Just be careful out there, don't take any chances. Greg, you're with us for the first round, we need all hands on deck, but I want you in the lab as soon as we get some evidence."

As the team dispersed, Sara trailed Grissom down the hall, "Gris, I've got some evidence that links two cases Nick and I worked, this guy's committed two murders inside of a week, we can't just table this."

"Sara, what do you want me to do? You heard Ecklie, we need everyone out there." Taking in her stiff posture and the stubborn set of her jaw Grissom sighed. "How close are you? Do you have a name?"

"No, but…"

"Then there's nothing I can do. You want to catch this guy, get out there and solve the monorail case."

She gave a small huff of frustration and turned sharply toward the locker room. "And Sara," she peered at him over her shoulder, "Be careful. I'll see you at the scene."

**A/N** I'm hung over and not too keen on, well, living right now. I'm gonna nap and then write. BTW, I'm listening to the new Fall Out Boy and though it's not as solid as 'Cork Tree, there are some _catchy _tracks – there, that's my completely unsolicited marketing plug of the week.


	3. Chapter 3

Check the first chapter for an expanded and slightly more responsible warning/disclaimer.

Oh, and thanks heaps and loads for ALL THE REVIEWS!!! You folks are very kind, you make me blush and scuff my toes.

* * *

Catherine froze as the battered monorail car shuddered and groaned around her. Though it escaped the derailment of the first two, the third car perched precariously on the track over the lush grounds of the Flamingo.

Shifting uncomfortably in her safety harness, Catherine edged a few steps further into the car. "Warrick?" She called hesitantly.

"Hey Catherine." Warrick's head popped up from between the seats. "You guys done with the other two cars already?"

"Just about. Gil sent Greg back to the lab," she paused to glance at her watch, "Almost two hours ago. I used up nearly all the print powder in our kits, gonna be hell ruling out all the passengers and emergency personnel. Nick's photographing everything now and I'm not really sure where Gil's got to."

Catherine carefully balanced her kit on one of the rear facing seats. The car gave another disquieting shudder. "Speaking of missing people, where's Sara? I thought she was up here with you."

Warrick snorted, "She's outside photographing the exterior and taking samples from the coupling. Better her than me, I'm no good with heights."

Noting Catherine's wide-eyed silence, Warrick smiled winningly. "She's fine Cath, she's on a safety rope just like we are."

Just then the car gave a particularly violent heave, the screech and groan of twisting metal was punctuated by Catherine's undignified yelp.

"Warrick! You okay in there?" Sara hollered from somewhere below and outside the car.

"Yeah! We're good." Warrick called back.

"I'm heading back in."

"Shouldn't we pull her up or something?" Catherine asked Warrick. Whatever response he might have offered was interrupted by the rhythmic whhhhhrrrrr-click of Sara jugging the ascender.

Cautiously, Catherine moved to the ragged opening at the end of the car. With a death grip on a passenger pole and her safety line clutched tightly in the other hand, she peered over the edge of the car to see Sara making steady upward progress.

Catherine observed Sara's relaxed posture in the harness and noted her familiarity with the equipment. Ever curious, Catherine tipped her head to the side and watched Sara work. Though encumbered by her harness, kit, and camera, Sara's sleeveless shirt and CSI vest left her arms bare to Catherine's appraisal. Using the gear clearly took a lot of upper body strength; the muscles under Sara's sweat-sheened skin bunched and flexed cutting deep lines into her arms.

Catherine's gaze slid past Sara's appealing form to the scene below, _far _below. If possible, her grip on the pole grew tighter, the hot licks of fear making her head swim unpleasantly.

Her reverie was broken when a long fingered hand grasped the base of the very pole she clung to. The edge of the mangled car dug into Sara's side, halting her ascent. With a pained grunt of exertion, Sara tried to heave herself up and into the car only to grind the length of her left side along the escarpment when she missed her hold.

"Shit Sara." Dropping into a crouch, Catherine adjusted her grip on the pole and reached out to her coworker. Ignoring Catherine's hand, Sara repeated her maneuver only to have Catherine snatch her hand and begin to pull her up. They awkwardly pulled and jerked Sara back into the car which proceeded to give a creaking shudder.

Catherine gave another yelp and stumbled into the arms that had distracted her from her fear only moments before. "Woah Cat." Catherine looked up into Sara's face and parted her lips to offer her thanks when Warrick called down to them.

"Sara, you get all the photos you need of the outside?"

Sara immediately released Catherine and began making her way up and out of the car. "Yeah, I think we're good. I shot the car from every angle I could reach…"

Catherine took a long breath and picked her way carefully up the car to join her fellow CSI's.

* * *

Catherine flopped into her desk chair. "Yeah Nancy, thanks for picking her up. I don't know when I'll be home again for more than just a nap. We're required to go home after a double but no one seems to enforce that rule and I'll bet Ecklie wants us here 'round the clock. Okay, I will, thanks again Nancy."

Catherine snapped her phone shut and slouched further down in her chair. Though sleep pulled at the corners of her mind, she couldn't stop thinking about that strange moment with Sara on the monorail.

Being steadied by the arms she'd been drooling over had been a heady experience. She'd worked with Sara, _fought_ with Sara for years, why was she suddenly noticing her standoffish colleague?

Her face twisted into a wry smile. Because she's avoiding me and I hate being ignored, because she's rapidly approaching burnout, and because she's got _amazing_ arms.

"Shit."


	4. Chapter 4

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Sara shuffled into the car park. After fumbling with her keys, Sara finally gained entry to the large, black SUV. With heavily lidded eyes and a slack mouth, Sara groped for the ignition to begin the journey home. A half-hearted twist of the key and music filled the cab. Sara laid her head wearily on the steering wheel. Maybe she'd sit here…just for a few minutes...

* * *

Catherine yawned as she entered the car park. Working the buttons of the keyless entry, she was rewarded with a flash of headlights that distinguished her county-issue black SUV from the others in the lot. She was nearly to her car when she noticed Sara slumped over the wheel of her own CSI rig.

Catherine tapped Sara's window lightly, she could hear music from the cab and realized that it was unlikely Sara would hear her. She gave the window a sharp rap. Sara startled awake, saw Catherine out the corner of her eye, and jerked away in surprise.

Before the wide-eyed brunette could come up with a response, Catherine had opened the door. "C'mon Sidle, I'll drive you home."

"No Cath, that's alright, I'm fine, I just…"

"Fell asleep the moment you held still. Come on Sara, you were burning the midnight oil before this whole monorail fiasco. You're exhausted and I'm not letting you drive home."

Sara opened her mouth to argue only to have her eyes meet Catherine's intense stare, she would have sworn Catherine's nostrils actually flared. Sara dropped her gaze, "Yeah, I, thanks Catherine."

Surprised by her relatively easy victory, Catherine watched as Sara grabbed her keys and a scuffed backpack and stepped out of the car. Catherine gave her a small smile. "C'mon." They climbed into Catherine's rig and pulled out of the car park.

Catherine began to drive home on autopilot, then realized that she didn't know where the brunette lived.

"Just take Tropicana, I'm in an apartment complex behind The Gun Store."

Catherine spared her passenger a glance. "You do much shooting?"

"Yeah."

"At least you're not far from work, I'm clear out in the orchards, but it's a nicer place for Lindsey."

"Yeah."

Vexed by Sara's clipped conversation, Catherine glanced over at her passenger and immediately bit back her sharp retort. Sara's eyelids were fluttering, her head nodding toward her chest as she fought to stay awake.

Fighting a smile, Catherine dialed up a jazz station and kept the volume low. Inside of three blocks, Sara lost the battle and succumbed to sleep.

Catherine drove past the familiar blue awning of The Gun Store and turned in behind it. She pulled up to a large, drab building that she assumed was Sara's apartment complex since no other building in sight seemed large enough to fit the bill.

As she parked, Catherine wondered at the best way to wake her jumpy companion. Though previous experience told her it was unwise, she brought the curled fingers of her right hand to Sara's face and gently stroked the brunette's cheek with the backs of her knuckles. "Sara." She whispered softly.

Sara's brow furrowed and she let out a groaning sigh – it couldn't possibly be time to get up yet. Catherine's hand moved to her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

"Sara." With a sudden gasp, Sara came to life and Catherine found her wrist caught in a painfully tight grip. Sara's eyes were dark and angry, then, she blinked and seem to come back to herself. As quickly as she'd grabbed it, Sara released Catherine's wrist and made a hasty, almost panicked exit from the vehicle.

Catherine was about the give chase when she looked at her passenger seat and smiled.

Five flights and numerous self-recriminations later, Sara reached her apartment. Reaching into her pocket and finding nothing, Sara felt her stomach roll over. When a frantic search of her other pockets revealed nothing, Sara searched her backpack. Forced to admit defeat, Sara put her back to her door and slid to the ground.

Catherine was breathing heavily as she topped the fifth flight of stairs. The sight that greeted her would have been comical if she wasn't so worried about her colleague. Sara was curled at the foot of her door, arms around her knees, head down. She looked very small and rather defeated.

Sara didn't look up but she knew it was Catherine who approached by the slight click of her high-heeled boots on the tiled floor – those must have been a bitch with all the stairs, Sara nearly smirked into her knees at the thought.

"Tough gettin' in without keys, huh?" Catherine said softly.

"Yeah." Sara replied without lifting her head.

Catherine was fighting an internal battle. Her instincts were telling her to gather Sara up in her arms and ask what was wrong, failing that, maybe shake some sense into the young woman. However, Catherine acknowledged her inner monologue, her instincts had rarely served her well in her dealings with the enigmatic Sara Sidle.

"I'll pick you up before shift, okay?"

Sara couldn't believe her ears. She looked up at Catherine with wide, confused eyes.

Catherine gave her a soft half-smile. "I didn't mean to startle you." She did her best to lean down without encroaching on Sara's space and handed the brunette the keys. "Get some good rest, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Sara cautiously accepted her keys and watched the blonde go back the way she had come, hips gently swaying. "Huh."

Sara couldn't fathom the shift in her interactions with Catherine. It seemed that one day the woman despised her and the next she was telling her to get more sleep and driving her home. Though it was in her nature to focus all of her energies on a problem until she solved it, this particular quandary came under the heading of interpersonal relations, thus she found herself actively ignoring the "Catherine Thing" in favor of pursuits where she didn't feel hopelessly out of her depth.

The dull ache that seemed to permeate the whole of her body told Sara to sleep, but the "Catherine Thing" wouldn't slip into the recesses of her mind and she found herself going over her and Nick's serial files in an effort to beat it back into a dark corner.

Once again she was captivated by photos of the castoff at both crime scenes. Just before the team was assigned the monorail case, Sara had determined that both victims had been whipped. Lacerations on both victims indicated that they had been beaten with something, a car antenna, Doc Robbins had postulated. But after staring at the bodies and the castoff blood, Sara was able to conclude that whatever they had been beaten with was far more flexible than a car antenna, more like an old fashioned bull whip.

Though she felt sure in her conclusion about the bull whip, Sara was at a loss with how to proceed. "Bull whip" didn't seem like much to go on. Leaning further back into her well-worn sofa, Sara finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

"Mom!" Lindsey bounced on Catherine's bed.

"Hey baby." Catherine wrapped her girl in a sleepy hug. "How're you doing? Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah, it was good. What's for dinner?"

Catherine grinned. "Dinner? You mean breakfast, I just woke up."

Lindsay bounced on the bed and took the bait for the old argument. "Nooooo, it's dinner time 'cause I already had breakfast."

"You had breakfast without me?" Catherine trembled her lip comically.

"Yep! Lunch too!" Lindsey laughed and bounced some more. "Come on Mom, I'm starving."

Catherine smiled, light moments between her and Lindsey were to be savored. The girl had sobered considerably since Eddie's death and her traumatic experience in the flooding car. Catherine stroked her daughters soft, blonde hair. Her little girl was growing up fast, Catherine couldn't imagine many more years of giggling wake ups and easy joking with the tumultuous teen years on the horizon.

"You want spaghetti?"

Lindsey wrinkled her nose. "You won't put ucky mushrooms in it, will you?"

Catherine sighed dramatically. "I suppose we could leave out the ucky mushrooms, but only if you set the table."

"Okay!" Lindsey bounded off the bed.

Catherine gave a long, feline stretch and rose to fix dinner. While preparing the meal, Catherine's mind turned to Sara. Why was the brunette so skittish around her? Surely her recent efforts hadn't gone unnoticed, Sara had to know that Catherine no longer blamed her for closing Eddie's case. As she browned hamburger and sausage, Catherine resolved to have a serious conversation with Sara.

* * *

Sara awoke to a sharp rapping on her door. She'd fallen asleep sitting up again. Groaning and stretching her stiff body, she moved to the door in a funk.

When Sara didn't answer immediately, Catherine wondered if perhaps she had decided to avoid the potential discomfort of their meeting altogether by taking a cab to work. Juggling her purse and two large mochas, Catherine moved to knock again only to be faced with a bleary-eyed Sara.

Catherine watched realization dawn. "Shit."

"Good morning Catherine, thank you for bringing me coffee' was more what I was hoping for." Catherine grinned at her and handed her a mocha.

Sara's jaw worked for a moment. "Yeah, uhh, morning, thanks for the coffee. I, I'm late, you should go, I'll take a cab."

Catherine smiled. "Nancy's been picking Lindsey up a little early because of Jeremy's karate class." At Sara's adorably puzzled look Catherine simplified; "I'm early."

"Okay." Sara moved to close the door, then seemed to realize the profound rudeness of that maneuver. "Errr, you wanna come in?" Sara exhibited her discomfort with the idea of allowing Catherine into her personal space.

Suppressing her irritation with Sara's overly cautious behavior, Catherine smiled encouragingly and stepped into Sara's home.

"I'll just, uh, run through the shower." Sara gestured vaguely at the couch then rushed off to her bathroom.

Once she heard the shower, Catherine indulged her curiosity and looked around the apartment. The space was rather small, but neat. Sara's computer hummed quietly in the corner between two bookcases filled with science and forensic texts. Another bookshelf contained an eclectic reading selection that ranged from landscape photography and yoga to science fiction and classic works.

Furniture was sparse in the cramped space. There was a long, well-worn couch parked in front of the television, which, Catherine noted, had two large dials – where had Sara gotten a T.V. with dials? Surely the T.V. was older than the occupant of the apartment. The one other chair in the room was an Ikea-esque purchase and looked as though it had never been sat in.

Catherine wandered into the kitchen, which, much like the lonely Ikea chair, clearly saw little use – either that or Sara was obsessively tidy. Though, from the number of takeout menus stuck to the refrigerator, Catherine deduced that Sara didn't do much cooking.

Making sure that the shower was still going, she peeked into the refrigerator. Catherine's left eyebrow disappeared into her hairline. Sara's 'fridge looked like that of a bachelor; a few Thai and Chinese food containers kept the beer company.

Catherine wandered back into the living room. No houseplants, no fish, and the only photographs on her wall were landscapes. Too tired to be more nosy, Catherine took a seat on the couch. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the crime scene photos.

* * *

**A/N **The Gun Store is, well, just what it sounds like! It is a really cool place in 'Vegas where you can shoot automatic weapons. I got the chance to go a few months ago and it was a kick in the ass. 


	5. Chapter 5

Catherine stared at the castoff blood in the photos on Sara's coffee table. Furrowing her brow she traced the unusual arc of the spatter. "Victims were whipped, viciously." She murmured to herself.

Sara was putting herself together in record time. Leaping from the shower, she toweled herself vigorously. She yanked a brush through the hair that seemed to curl a bit no matter what she did. A few swipes of deodorant later, she wrenched open the bathroom door only to realize that her company, the reason she was in such a rush, would get an eyeful if she streaked into her bedroom.

Ducking back, Sara wrapped herself in the fluffy white towel and stepped from the bathroom. A glance backward told her that Catherine was absorbed in the files Sara had fallen asleep perusing. Torn between berating Catherine for snooping through her stuff and asking her opinion on the spatter, Sara was brought up short.

Whether alerted by Sara's hasty exit or just cosmically good timing, Catherine's eyes rose to meet Sara's. The sight of the lithe, strong body hit her like a punch to the gut. Lips parted in silent shock, Catherine's gaze wandered over Sara's lean, wet form.

Well-muscled calves met toned thighs. As her gaze moved over what the towel concealed, Catherine's imagination kicked into overdrive. The smooth line of Sara's back emerged from the towel only to be lost again in a riot of wet, dark hair. Meeting Sara's eyes once more, Catherine was struck by their alluring mix of anger and vulnerability – she couldn't stop her lips from twisting into an appreciative smile.

Sara's eyes widened in surprise and she beat a hasty retreat to the relative safety of her bedroom.

**A/N** A pathetically short update, I know, but this is all I have time for between my shower and work and holy shit, I'm so VERY late.


	6. Chapter 6

Sara's return to the den roused Catherine from further contemplation of the crime scene photos. She watched as the younger woman stalked about the room collecting badge, gun, and her ubiquitous black boots.

"So Nick was right, we do have a serial."

Sara paused in the act of lacing up her boots. "We?" Her tone was dangerously low as she gazed up at Catherine with narrowed eyes. "Poaching cases again are we, _Cath_?"

Catherine set her jaw and tried for deep, calming breaths. "Fuck off Sara." Apparently the calming breaths weren't cutting it. "I'm trying to talk to you about a case you're clearly interested in," She gestured at the file-strewn table. "And all you can do is bite my head off, what the hell is your problem?"

"My problem? You have a habit of taking over investigations anytime it suits you - not this time. Nick and I worked both of those scenes, it's _our_ case."

Catherine drew a breath to retaliate but found herself interrupted by first her own cell phone and moments later, Sara's as well. Both women received the same ominous text: "Feds are here."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What makes you so sure that the first two cars were deliberately separated? How do you know it wasn't just a consequence of all the C4?"

Annoyed to the point of gnashing teeth, Sara set about explaining her theory to the square-jawed FBI agent for the second time. "The coupling between the second and third cars was tampered with." She gestured to a photograph. "The hydraulic hose has been cut…"

"It could have been severed in the explosion." The agent interjected.

"Nooooo," Sara drew the word out slowly, condescension seeping into her voice despite her best efforts. "There would be hydraulic fluid all over the coupling, the cars, the track at some point. Samples from the outside of the coupling show only trace amounts of hydraulic fluid, if the line was cut in the explosion, there would have been fluid all over. Besides, look at the hose."

She leaned over the table for the object in question. "See, this isn't a perfectly clean cut, nor is it all ragged – this isn't from an explosion.

The fed favored Sara with a bored look and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Sara huffed in frustration. "Look, The cut is clean, but not straight, as though someone had to cut around the hose with a knife." Here she made a motion with her hands of cutting around the hose.

"Yeah, that seems a little thin to me."

Sara's eyes went wide, shock and exasperation twisting her features into a hostile visage, she drew breath to castigate the infuriatingly obtuse agent.

"Ahh, Steve, I thought I might find you here." Catherine glided into the room and put a hand on the agent, apparently Steve's arm. "We've got something in trace that needs your expertise."

Positively beaming under the blonde's praise, the agent moved to the door. "You'll have to excuse me Miss, I deal in evidence, not conjecture." Sara bristled and aimed a vicious glare at his back.

Catherine trailed the agent, at the last moment she turned back to Sara, flashing her a wide smile and a conspiratorial wink.

Sara's gaze rested on the door long after it had closed. "I thought we were fighting." She murmured.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sara massaged her temples wearily. Though they'd collected a lot of evidence, there simply weren't many leads on the monorail case. After flipping through the photos she'd taken of the third car for the umpteenth time Sara finally succumbed to her need for caffeine.

She met Nick as she shuffled into the break room. "Hey, you getting' anywhere?" She asked the broad-shouldered CSI.

Nick's mouth turned up in a grin. "Actually, yes. Grissom found some weird residue under the first car that we can't account for. Our guys broke it down, Hodges gave me the loooong version of its make-up, but we still can't figure out what it is. I'm gonna run it by Sheena, see what she can dig up."

"Sheena?"

Nick flushed. "Agent Sellars. She's my federal…" Nick faltered, noting Sara's arched brow at his choice of pronoun, "She's the FBI agent I'm working with. Well what about you? Don't you have a tag-along?"

"Had one, don't now."

"Tell me that's not as bad as it sounds, there's not a fed in a drawer downstairs, right?"

Sara scoffed at him while she fixed her coffee. "No, no feds in the freezer, Catherine rescued him from my evil clutches before I could do the deed."

"Well, that's good I s'pose."

"Yeah, now you don't have to be on burial detail."

Nick laughed aloud and placed a hand over his heart. "Awww, Sara, I'm touched that you'd call me to dispose of a corpse."

"Naturally," Sara gestured with her mug, "Somehow I don't see Greg wielding a shovel all that well, you and Warrick are at the top of my list."

Nick moved closer and lowered his voice. "You had any more time to work on our serial?"

Sara bit her lip. "Actually Nick, I may have blown it. I took the case files home and when Cat picked me up this morning she started nosing around, asking questions. I told her this was our case, but you know how she is."

"Look Sar, I know she has a habit of getting what she wants, but Catherine means well. If monorail thing keeps going the way it has been, we won't be able to go after this guy officially for awhile."

"Yeah, I sure haven't found anything probative, Hell, I can't even come up with a decent theory on this one."

Nick nodded. "I know what you mean, this residue is my one and only lead. If Cath wants to help out with our serial, I don't mind." He held up a hand to forestall Sara's protest. "I'd rather work it together, but the important thing is getting that guy off the streets. Besides, Catherine can't steal a case we're not even supposed to be working on at the moment."

Sara gave him a half smile. "Yeah, I guess. Well, you better run along and find _Sheena_."

"Yeah, yeah."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Catherine was lost in a sea of 10-cards, as she'd predicted, eliminating emergency personnel from the witnesses and potential suspects was proving to be a nightmare. After rescuing Sara from Agent Steve, Catherine had spent nearly an entire shift analyzing and cataloguing blood spatter then helping a tech apply her findings to the 3-D rendering of the scene. Now she was smack dab in the middle of running prints through databases.

Heaving a weary sigh she glanced at her watch – Damn! Another shift nearly over and she had yet to finish sorting out the prints. Loathe to leave the complicated task unfinished, she resigned herself to pulling a triple. After the requisite calls home and a stout cup of coffee, Catherine turned back to her task.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sara yawned widely, she'd finally finished examining and cataloguing the debris from the scene. She glanced at her watch, rather than work three more hours to complete her triple, she opted to head home and spend some time working the serial case.

As she headed for the locker room, she noticed Catherine slumped over a layout table – who the hell had thought glass walls were a good idea? Though she fully intended to keep walking, Sara instead found herself marching into the room, after all, something could be wrong.

"Catherine? Are you alright?" She was met with snoring, and not the delicate, lady-like snoring she might have associated with Catherine, rather, this sound seemed caught somewhere between "pig in heat" and "chainsaw."

Okay, sleeping, not dead, that was a good sign. "Catherine!"

With one more fantastic snort, the blonde looked up and blinked at Sara, a 10 card stuck to her forehead.

Unable to suppress a snort of her own, Sara bit her lip.

"What?"

Sara did her best to control her mirth and replied with a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You fell asleep, you should go home and grab some rest, we're nearly through a triple."

"What's so damn funny?"

"You have a 10 card stuck to your forehead."

Catherine gingerly reached up, removed the offending object, and proceeded to blush quite prettily. Sara could no longer hold it together, the long shift had made her punchy.

"Are you cataloguing prints by diffusion now?"

Catherine aimed a deadly stare at her. "Yeah, well you drool when you sleep."

Sara put a self-conscious hand to her mouth before shooting back; "You snore like a damn freight train."

Catherine's jaw dropped and there was a pregnant silence before both women dissolved into laughter.


	7. Chapter 7

I apologize for not updating when I said I would, I'm a liar. In my defense, I was busy graduating.

XXXX

Conrad Ecklie strode down the corridor of the lab when he was met with the sound of laughter. Glass walls revealed the culprits, the delectable Catherine Willows and, ah, of course, Sara Sidle.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Startled, both women turned as Ecklie burst into the room. "You two don't have enough to do, you have the time to stand around joking!?"

Sara's eyes flashed. "Oh f-"

"Conrad!" Catherine interjected before Sara could earn herself a suspension. "We're both coming off a triple and about to head home." She flashed him a smile. "Besides, last time I checked, laughing was allowed in the lab."

Sara was equal parts amazed and disgusted by the effect of Catherine's teasing.

Ecklie smiled sheepishly. "It's just that with all the pressure surrounding this case, especially with the FBI in the building, I just want everyone to act professional."

Catherine widened her smile, clearly sensing victory. "Sorry Conrad, I know you're under a lot of strain right now, believe me, we're feeling it too." She rose from her seat at the layout table and approached the balding man. "I was just telling Sara, I don't know how she does it, pulling triples on a regular basis, I'm completely spent."

Ecklie worked his jaws like a fish out of water. "Yes, well, we could all use some rest."

"Yes, we could, in fact, I was going to ask Gil, but you know, he'd never allow it, but I was going to ask Gil if Sara and I could take a shift off, we're neither of us doing our best work under these conditions."

"Further evidence that Grissom doesn't know how to manage his team. Of course you can take a shift off, Catherine."

"Sara too? She's my ride after all." At Ecklie's quizzical look, "One of the Tahoes is out of commission." She lied smoothly.

"Certainly, but I want both of you back here in 24 hours and I want this case closed!"

"Of course Conrad." Catherine smirked at Ecklie's retreat.

"I can't believe you just did that."

Catherine was exasperated, "Did what? We could use the break."

Sara's eyes flashed, "You _flirted_ with Ecklie and you hung Grissom out to dry."

Catherine paused and visibly calmed herself before responding. "No, I just got us a chance to work that serial and I did not flirt with Ecklie, I just decided to be nice instead of telling him to, what was it you were about to say? 'Fuck off'?"

Sara's brow furrowed. "But you made it sound like Gil can't do his job!"

"Ecklie hates Gil, he hates it that Gil won't play politics, he hates it that Gil's a better investigator and Gil's strategy is always to reason with him, well Ecklie doesn't respond to reason, he responds to flattery, which by the way, you could do more often, always acting like a smartass doesn't win you any points Sara."

"I don't want to score points, I just want to do my job!"

Unable to control her rising ire, Catherine stepped aggressively into the angry brunette's space. "So do I! And you know what? I find it easier to do my job when the boss works _with_ me instead of against me."

Sara flushed with anger, these battles with Catherine were intense, if somewhat predictable. They'd not fought this fiercely since…

Sara felt the anger fall away from her only to be replaced with hot licks of shame. They hadn't fought like this since Eddie's death, since she'd been unable to bring Catherine and Lindsey justice.

Catherine watched the fire go completely out of the brunette. Sara paled, crossed her arms over her stomach, her gaze dropped to the floor. Watching Sara's posture close down put Catherine's heart in her throat, the younger woman looked profoundly uncomfortable.

"Look, I already had to ask Nancy to keep Lindsey and I've got a theory about those lash marks." Sara seemed to perk up a bit.

XXXX

"Our killer is definitely using a single-tail." Catherine gestured to the photos strewn across Sara's coffee table.

"Single-tail?"

Catherine shuffled through photos, "Yeah, a whip, not a cat o'nine or a flogger, just one piece."

"Okay, is that any different than a bull whip? 'Cause that's what I had it narrowed down to."

Catherine smiled absently as she continued to sift through the pictures. "Well, a bull whip might be a little bit heavier than what's being used during the murders but it's the same idea." Finally, the elder CSI showed Sara the object of her search, two close-ups of each victim's wounds. "Ignore the lashes that broke the skin, what do you see."

Sara sighed, then examined both of the photos intently. "There are a lot of marks where he didn't break the skin. So, he got angrier or more excited, started drawing blood."

Catherine nodded slowly. "True, but it takes incredible skill to use a single-tail without drawing blood; the person we're looking for is probably known in the BDSM community."

"Okay, so where do we go now? Lady Heather is the only…" She trailed off uncertainly.

"Domme? Top?"

Sara shrugged roughly then jerked up from the couch toward the kitchen. "I don't know anyone else that kinky and fucked up."

Catherine laughed delightedly, the brunette returned with two beers. Sara opened her beer, tipped her head back, and took a few long, cold swallows. Catherine found herself frozen in the act of opening her beer, arrested by the smooth column of the younger woman's throat.

Sara lowered her drink, noticed Catherine's inaction, then casually stretched a long arm between them to twist the top off of the blonde's beer.

"Thanks"

Sara grunted and took another drink. Catherine took a cautious sip appreciating the cold brew. "Well, I'm sure it wouldn't do any harm to ask Lady Heather. What do we know about the victims?"

"Both women, one blonde from Vegas, 23, one from Jean, 28, Chinese descent." Sara shuffled the files again. "No readily apparent connection. Blonde worked for Sterling & Khune, brokerage firm downtown and….Natalie Cheng was finishing her residency, she was going to be a cardiologist. Both women were killed with a blow to the back of the head; Cheng's neck was broken and Craig suffered a severe cerebral hemorrhage."

Sara handed the files to Catherine. "Nick and I spoke with A.J. Craig's parents, the blonde, she wasn't dating anyone that they know of, no enemies, apparently successful at work. Nick interviewed the Chengs, pretty much the same story, successful young woman, single."

"I doubt we're gonna get the information we need from the parents. Roommates, friends, a credit card statement, we need to find out where these women were spending their free time."

Sara eyed Catherine. "You really think these women were into sadomasochism, that they went looking to get beaten?"

Catherine met her gaze stolidly. "Yeah, I do. So far it's the only link between the victims and it explains how the killer got them tied down – the victims don't show any defensive wounds, no broken fingernails, no skin or blood under the fingernails, their knuckles aren't scraped up. Look at the restraints the killer used, they must have been wide cuffs, stiff material, probably leather, lined. Even if my gut wasn't leading us here the evidence would be."

Sara frowned, finished her beer. "I'll call A.J. Craig's parents, see about getting one of A.J.'s credit card statements. You call the Chengs, Nick should still have their number."

"Sara."

"What?"

"It's three o'clock in the morning."

XXXX

Now that I'm working full time instead of going to school the updates should come on heck of a lot faster.


End file.
